


Shadows of Shared Nights

by bonesofether



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunited lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesofether/pseuds/bonesofether
Summary: What starts out as an opportunity for perceived revenge turns into an opportunity for a long lost love to be rekindled.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52
Collections: Reaper76 Free For All Secret Santa 2019





	Shadows of Shared Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bubonicc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubonicc/gifts).



If there had ever been a person in Reyes’s life that could make his heart hammer in his chest the way it was now, it was Morrison. Even now, over twenty years after that first, awkward meeting, Gabriel’s heart was once again practically racing with excitement and exhilaration. A quick, strong rhythm that sent a twist of warmth and emotion through Gabriel of the likes he’d never felt with anybody else.

Except now there was something else accompanying that excitement and exhilaration, and it was decidedly more sinister. It was adrenaline. Adrenaline from both the thrill of the hunt and from finally catching his quarry. Not only that, but the warmth that normally worked up and through him was now stifled by a cold, dead core.

But that emotion…

Well, it was still there. Even after all these years, and everything that had happened, that damn emotion was still there. And it was currently doing quite well in staying Reaper’s hand.

As his finger feathered the trigger of one of his twin shotguns, Reaper worked to slow his breathing. It had been quite the chase to finally corner Jack, but now they had nowhere else to run. Not only that, but they were obviously feeling the pain from obvious wounds to their side and thigh. All it would take would be one squeeze of the trigger and Reaper would finally be vindicated.

...right?

Because try as he might, Reaper couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

Though he kept Soldier 76 squarely in the sights of his shotgun, Reaper found he couldn’t bring himself to do much more than that. Even as he reminded himself of all the times he had been overlooked for everything from promotions to awards to simple acknowledgements, Reaper couldn’t take the shot. Because as soon as he reminded himself of those times, he was just as quick to remember that those sleights against him hadn’t been Jack’s doing.

No, they had been from some overpaid, underthinking higher up who hardly cared about those under them. If anything, Jack had been one of Gabriel’s staunchest supporters back then. Even through all the problems that some of the Blackwatch commander’s more reckless stunts had caused, Jack had been there.

And, after over twenty years, here he was again…

“So you going to pull the damn trigger yet or do I have to do that for you, too?”

The snapped, wheezed question pulled Reaper out of his thoughts and he refocused his attention on Soldier 76. He tilted his head slightly, more to show that he was considering the white-haired man’s statement than anything else. It had been so long that it was too easy to forget that there was now a mask concealing Reaper’s mangled features.

“I’m savoring the moment,” the black-robed Talon member hissed.

“Sure are taking your sweet time, then.”

Leaning back against the wall, Soldier 76 stared back at Reaper. He wasn’t entirely sure why they hadn’t ended him right then and there, and confusion was starting to give way to irritation. Not only that, but Jack could feel his body struggling to heal the wounds that he’d managed to sustain in the chaos of chasing after, and being chased by, Reaper.

Ironically enough, at this rate, Jack was beginning to wonder if he’d expire from said injuries versus a shot from one of Reaper’s shotguns.

Looking up through a cracked visor at the walking, breathing ghost of the man once known as Gabriel Reyes, Jack scoffed and tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t tell me you’re having a sudden attack of conscious _now_ ,” he chuckled dryly, grimacing at the coppery taste in the back of his mouth.

“Don’t test my patience,” Reaper growled, taking a couple of steps forward.

This close, Jack could see that a couple of his shots had actually hit Reaper, though they didn’t seem to be slowing him down. And as much as he hated to admit it, Gabriel had always had a higher threshold for pain tolerance. He’d weathered through some injuries that would have floored any other soldier. Even if they had gone through the same super soldier enhancements.

“What patience?” Jack asked with a bark of laughter. He saw no reason to try and reason or, gods forbid, plead with Reaper. That time had long since gone by. No, if Jack was going to die, here in this alleyway in Dorado, then he was going to do so laughing in Death’s face. “You never had any to begin with. Even before-” Jack gritted his teeth as he bit back a wince. “-before you got dressed up in that ridiculous outfit.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Reaper spat back, still keeping his shotgun trained on the former Overwatch commander. “You look like you got stuck in a mid-life crisis and never left.”

“Well, as much as I’m enjoying our little chat here, if your intent is to kill me, you’re about to miss your opportunity.”

With an audible groan, Jack pushed himself off the warm brick wall he had been leaning against. He managed to stride forward with only the faintest hint of a limp, until he had Reaper’s shotgun barrel pressed against his chest. Jack then reached up and tapped at the barrel, and though the gesture was meant to provoke Reaper a little further it seemed to have the opposite effect. Because, oddly enough, Reaper actually shuffled back a step, drawing back the shotgun ever so slightly.

“What are you doing, Jack?” Reaper demanded, though there was no missing the ghost of a waver in his voice.

“What I’ve always had to do when it came to you and me,” Jack replied, a wry smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth. “Do the job for you.”

An obvious flash of anger shot through Reaper and he quickly retook the small pace he had shuffled back, jamming the shotgun barrel back up against Soldier 76’s chest. For what seemed like the longest minute in all of eternity, he held the weapon there. Through the crack in their visor, Reaper could easily see Jack staring back at him. Not Soldier 76. Not Overwatch Commander Morrison. But Jack Morrison. The man that Gabriel had once called a friend...and lover.

Gritting his teeth, Reaper tried to pull the trigger, but something intervened. More specifically, and most unsettling, what was left of a heart he had long since thought gone intervened. Not only did it stay his hand but it even went so far as to send a slight tremble through Reaper’s arm. It rippled across his cold skin and then through the barrel of the gun.

“Heh, getting tired there, Gabe?” Jack asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Could say the same about you,” Reaper muttered, not missing the faint wheeze in Jack’s breathing.

“You’d better hurry up, in that case. Otherwise I might just recover enough to pull another fast one on you.”

“And what? Break your other leg?”

Though he was silent, Jack did give an off-handed shrug in response. From the corner of his eye, he could see his assault rifle. The barrel of the weapon was just barely peeking around the corner of the dumpster that he had fallen onto when the walkway he’d been running on had given out from underneath him. But even though he knew that the weapon was still loaded with enough bullets to make Reaper think twice about pursuing him, Jack doubted his ability to get far with the wounds he was sporting.

Suddenly, there was a flash of movement that snapped Jack’s attention back to the black-robed man in front of him. In a split second, Reaper lunged forward and grabbed Jack’s arm, pulling them towards him. It all happened so quickly that Jack barely had time to react, even with his inhumanly fast reflexes.

Jamming his arm up, ignoring the sharp stab of pain when the open wound on it struck Reaper’s neck, Jack tried to place something between himself and the Talon member. It was only when Reaper froze that Jack realized their intent wasn't to get them closer to ensure a single killing shot. And despite the mask, Jack knew the mildly irritated look that Reaper-no, _Gabriel_ was giving him when they sighed roughly.

“Lean on me,” Reaper ordered quietly.

“I…” For a moment Jack wasn’t sure if he’d heard Reaper correctly. Or if it was just that he was too surprised, and even a little hopeful, at what he’d heard them say. “...what?”

“I said,” Reaper tugged at Jack’s arm, tilting his head away slightly as he holstered his shotgun, “lean on me.”

Cautious hopefulness sprung up faster in Jack than he had been prepared for. It caught whatever gruff reply he might have had and silenced it, so all Jack could do was stare back at the man that had, a few seconds ago, seemed intent on killing him.

...or had they really? They’d certainly squandered any and all opportunities they may have had by now.

“...okay.”

Slowly letting his arm fall away from Reaper’s throat, Jack didn’t resist when they took his other arm and slung it over their shoulders. Shrugging slightly, Reaper pulled Jack up against him, wrapping an arm around the other’s waist to support them. Though he was grateful to get weight off his injured leg, Jack couldn’t help but cast a quick glance down to the couple of bullet wounds marring Reaper’s right thigh and calf.

“You sure you’re going to be able to walk yourself?” he muttered, gaze flicking up to Reaper’s.

“They’ll heal.”

“Yeah, I know that. So will mine. But are you going to be able to walk _now_.”

“We’re about to find out.”

With a short snarl of effort, Reaper began trudging forward. Despite being injured, the black-robed man did a surprisingly good job of supporting Jack’s weight against his own. Though Jack made an effort to keep as much of his weight as possible on his uninjured leg. He wasn’t sure what Reaper had in mind at this point, but that was nothing new. Besides, he was more than ready to get out of the damp, dark alleyway.

“You want me to get that?”

Realizing that they had stopped, Jack looked up at Reaper. They must have caught the inquisitive look, because they then nodded to something. Following the gesture, Jack saw what Reaper had been referring to. His assault rifle.

“Yeah, should...probably pick that up. Can’t have some kid getting their hands on it,” Jack muttered. He started to take a limping step forward, but Reaper set their hand on his chest.

“Stay there,” he ordered. He then looked over to Jack. “And you’re going to need to brace yourself for a moment.”

Nodding in affirmation, Jack steadied himself...just in time for Reaper to suddenly dissolve into a dark, ghostly cloud. The change, though not unnatural for Reaper, still made Jack pause for a moment. He then watched as the cloud flitted over to the assault rifle before rapidly resuming the humanoid form of Reaper.

Kneeling down with a muffled groan, Reaper plucked up the assault rifle. He looked it over slowly, and for a moment, Jack wondered if their plan had been to use his own weapon on him all along. Then Reaper chuckled shortly and turned it over in his hands before facing Jack. And when he spoke, Jack knew the smirk that Gabriel was wearing underneath that mask.

“See you never got rid of this damn peashooter.”

“I also never got rid of the ability to take down targets from a long range,” Jack answered with a smirk of his own. “Unlike a certain somebody I know.”

“You know me,” Reaper replied, handing over the rifle. Then, in a single step, he effortlessly guided Jack to lean on him once again before putting his arm back around their waist. “I like to get up close and personal with my targets.”

“Oh, I remember. Also remember being one of those targets more than once. Can’t say I all those times were bad, though.”

There was a quiet noise of surprise, and Reaper snapped his gaze down to Jack.

Realizing how easily the words had tumbled out, Jack immediately silenced himself. Clenching his jaw, he kept his gaze cast downwards as they slowly made their way down and out of the alleyway. Of course, Reaper was keeping them both in the shadows as much as possible. But given the way they both looked, it was for the best.

Finally, Reaper made a noise that sounded like he was either trying to clear his throat or choking on something sharp. Though he didn’t look up, Jack couldn’t help but wonder just how badly Gabriel’s throat had been injured. Judging by their voice, whatever damage had been inflicted had been permanent.

“Well, some of those times you were a target I wanted to keep alive.”

“To be a target again, huh?”

“...more or less.”

The two lapsed back into silence, continuing to make their way through the shadows of a small street. Though it was late into the night, Jack could still hear the sounds of people milling about. Whether in homes or in shops, it was obvious that there were still people awake and about.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked, finally looking back up to Reaper.

“Old safehouse. Used to be used by one of the small-time cartels around here.” There was a pause. “But they’re not going to be using it any more.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because they made the grave mistake of getting in Talon’s way.”

Though he couldn’t be certain, the tone in their response made Jack think that it had been Reaper himself that had been dispatched to deal with the cartel. Nothing made a statement quite like having Death himself charge in and clean house in the bloodiest fashion possible. Though, as much as he might try to deny it, the thought of Gabriel being used as Talon’s lapdog didn’t sit well with Jack.

He didn’t have too long to dwell on it, though.

“Here.”

Looking to where Reaper motioned, Jack was more than a little surprised to find themselves standing in front of a fairly well lit, small door leading to what appeared to be a neatly kept house. It was small and at the end of the street, sure, but looked completely normal along with the rest of the houses. Enough so that Jack ventured a questioning look up to Reaper.

“You...sure?”

“Positive.” Noticing the doubting look that he was being given, Reaper chuckled and carefully helped Jack up the small set of stairs to the door. “You wouldn’t even look twice at this place, would you?”

“Probably not.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Having to concede that Reaper was right, Jack made a short noise of agreement.

Once inside the house, though, Jack’s opinion of the place changed dramatically. The door was reinforced and adorned with multiple locks. All of which Reaper engaged once they were inside. The windows didn’t have normal blinds. Instead, they were set with heavy, metal blinds that could be yanked down in a split second if necessary. And all of the furniture looked to be strategically placed so that they could be used as last-ditch barricades if all else failed.

Of course, there was no missing the bullet holes that riddled the walls and ceiling of the house. Though it had been cleaned up well, the bullet holes remained a stark, chilling detail.

“You know what, I take back everything I might have said about this house being normal.”

“Thought you might change your mind,” Reaper replied, a slight hint of laughter in his voice.

“The couch isn’t rigged to explode or anything, is it?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Good.”

With that, Jack hobbled his way over to the couch, slid off his damaged visor, leaned his assault rifle up against the end of the couch, and unceremoniously collapsed onto it. The cushioning was surprisingly soft, and for a long moment Jack stared up blankly at the ceiling. Even though he heard Reaper walking around, he wasn’t too concerned. If they were still planning to kill him, they were going to an incredible amount of trouble and taking an even greater risk with all of this.

Besides, even if Reaper did end him right there, at least Jack would die comfortably.

“Got to give those thugs credit, they have amazingly good taste in furniture and decor,” Jack commented.

“The drug business is a lucrative one, even for small-time cartels.”

Noticing that Reaper’s voice was farther away, Jack looked up. The black-robed man was rifling through the contents of cabinets, apparently looking for something. After a few moments, Jack smirked and leaned back against the couch cushioning.

“Lose your car keys?”

“Your sense of humor is as dead as I am.”

The comment caught Jack off guard, and he fell silent. Unsure of what to say, he looked around the house. Despite everything, it did still have a rather cozy, inviting feeling to it. He guessed that even criminals had a need for a place to call home.

“Here.”

Turning back to Reaper, Jack noticed that they had a first aid kit in hand. It was small, but it would be enough. For a normal human, it may not have been. But for a super soldier, it’d do.

Though Jack reached up to take the kit from Reaper, he moved it away, batting their hand lightly away. Obviously confused, Jack looked up at Reaper and raised an eyebrow. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Reaper sat down on the couch beside Jack. The injury to their thigh would have to be the first to take care of, as it was the worst and posed the biggest problem.

“I remember how well you put on bandages,” Reaper stated, smirking up at Jack even though he knew the expression was hidden. “Pretty sure that’s why they ended up giving you that biotic field dispenser.”

“I’ll have you know that my title was Commander, not Doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Kneeling down in front of Jack, Reaper moved their leg so that he could see the injury better. Carefully picking away the tattered bits of fabric entwined with torn open flesh and bits of splintered wood, he made a short hum of thought. The wound wasn’t long, but it was deep. It looked as though the first wound had been made when Jack’s leg caught against the wooden walkway. The worst damage had been done, though, when he’d struck the corner of the metal dumpster.

Plucking out bits of wood and fabric, Reaper glanced up at Jack. They were, fortunately, holding very still. His blue-eyed gaze had been on Reaper’s hands, but when they paused, Jack looked up. He tilted his head inquisitively, to which Reaper sighed quietly and rolled his shoulders.

“It’s pretty deep,” he muttered, glancing over at the bandages in the first aid kit. “Doubt there’ll be enough.”

“Then do what you can,” Jack replied nonchalantly with a shrug. He paused, then leveled a look at Reaper. “...and don’t forget about yourself.”

“Like I said, I’ll heal.”

“Yeah, I know, but-”

“It’s not up for argument, Jack.”

The sound of his name made the white-haired soldier go quiet. Sighing in exasperation, he looked away, stifling a wince as he felt Reaper wash the wound out with a sort of antiseptic. Thinking back, Jack recalled that Gabriel usually ended up winning most of their arguments. Occasionally Jack might get a win in, but only occasionally.

As he finished tying the bandages around the injury, Reaper took an internal assessment of his own. The smallest of them had already healed, leaving just pinpricks of discomfort in their wake. The worst were still in the process of healing, skin and flesh slowly knitting back together. He could have sped up the process if he’d had someone to drain the life out of, but the only other person present was Jack. And, well…

Well, that just wasn’t an option.

“Gabriel.”

“Hm?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Looking up at Jack, Reaper tilted his head questioningly. Jack motioned to his neck, a surprisingly concerned expression on their grizzled features. Slowly lifting a hand up, Reaper dabbed his gloved fingertips at the side of his neck. Sure enough, when he pulled them back, they were stained with dark crimson.

“Huh, you’re right,” Reaper grumbled, gaze still on his fingertips.

“Thought you said you’d heal.”

“It’s not an immediate process.”

“Then come here.”

Now it was Reaper’s turn to pause, and after a moment he looked up slowly at Jack. The white-haired soldier was giving him an expectant look, with the slightest hint of a smirk. After a few more seconds, Jack briefly beckoned for Reaper to get closer.

“You couldn’t keep your hands off me and _now_ you’re getting shy?”

A noise of indignance escaped Reaper’s throat and he had to clench his jaw to keep from making any other noises. Not about to be called out, though, he rose quickly before sitting down beside Jack as closely as he could get away with. The white-haired soldier’s smirk grew into a smug grin and he nodded in approval.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, picking up the first aid kit from its spot on the floor.

“I-”

Whatever retort Reaper may have had was cut short when Jack reached for his mask. Instinctively, Reaper’s hand shot up and grabbed Jack’s wrist tightly, stopping them. The sudden, violent reaction brought both men to a sudden stop. Though it was Jack who relaxed first. His smugness immediately evaporated, replaced by that concerned look that Gabriel knew all too well. It also sent a definite sense of unease through the former Blackwatch commander, because it was that concerned look that always disarmed his personal defenses.

Even now.

“Not the mask,” Reaper growled, a tremble creeping into his voice.

“If you’re hurt-”

“ _Not_ the mask, Jack.”

“-bad enough that it won’t heal-”

“No. _Not happening_.”

“ _Gabriel_.”

And there it was. That simple stating of his name, coupled with that damnable concerned look. It was the only surefire way that Jack, and only Jack, had been able to win over Gabriel in practically any situation.

“Jack,” Reaper sighed heavily, his shoulders slouching. And when he spoke again, it was with an uncharacteristically pleading tone. “Not the mask.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Jack retorted, though careful to keep his tone as soft as he could muster. The feeling that he might be bullying Gabriel into taking their mask off was not one he liked in the least. But he couldn’t risk leaving them badly wounded. “... _please_ , Gabe.”

Heaving out a long, defeated smile, Reaper slowly let go of Jack’s hand before reaching up to grip his mask. There was a split second of hesitation, but one look at the blue-eyed soldier he’d once loved told Gabriel he wasn’t going to win this argument. So, with obvious reluctance, Reaper undid the clasps holding his mask in place before slowly lowering it.

Despite what he had assured, Jack couldn’t help but wince inwardly at the extent of the injuries scarring Gabriel’s face. The explosion had obviously caught them on the left side and then worked across. The left side of Gabriel’s face was hardly there, once tanned skin now torn and a ghostly white. His left cheek had been torn completely open in places and never healed, giving Gabriel a sort curtained, half-rictus grin. One which was concealed only by the remnants of his left cheek.

The damage continued across, with Gabriel’s nose having been completely lost. It gave him a definite, ghoulish look, especially given how stark a contrast Gabriel’s still ebony hair was against his pale skin. Though Jack did notice there were a few streaks of grey beginning to show in the former Blackwatch commander’s beard.

Perhaps most unsettling, though, was Gabriel’s eyes. Somehow, the whites of his eyes had been turned pitch black. And the irises set in them, once a rich, dark brown, now glowed a dim, deep, inhuman crimson.

And, sure enough, there was a deep gouge running clean across the right side of Gabriel’s throat, just underneath his jawline. Dark blood still oozed from the wound, as it seemed to be struggling to heal.

Frowning at the sight of the injury, Jack snatched up one of the last bandages from the first aid kit. After fumbling with the packaging for a moment, he leaned forward and looked up at Gabriel questioningly. Though their gaze was averted, Gabriel tilted his head to the side obligingly. As he set the bandage on the worst of the gouge, Jack couldn’t help but notice just how deep the scarring on Gabriel’s face was. It had to have hurt. A lot.

“...tried to warn you.”

The sound of such misery in Gabriel’s voice was just downright startling to Jack, but he managed to recover fairly quickly. Mentally cursing himself for having been caught staring, he leaned back against the couch cushioning, well aware that Gabriel’s gaze followed him closely. Crossing his arms loosely, wincing at the twinge of pain that radiated from the wounded one, Jack scoffed and gave Gabriel a smirk.

“Not sure what you’re talking about. You were ugly then and you’re just as ugly now,” he teased in a desperate attempt to try and lighten the mood.

Despite himself, the words still managed to bring a weak smile to Gabriel’s mangled features. Enough that he chuckled dryly and shrugged, lifting his crimson gaze to Jack’s blue one.

“I don’t know. You sure seemed to like the way I looked.”

“Yeah, I did,” Jack conceded. He looked over Gabriel, making sure that his gaze was followed, before shrugging and grinning faintly at the dark-haired man. “Got to say, still kind of do.”

Though blushing wasn’t exactly something he could do any more, there was no missing the flustered look that flashed across Gabriel’s face. He made a short noise as he struggled to find his voice. Finally, though, he composed himself and scoffed, shaking his head with a weak grin of his own.

“Think your sight’s going with age, old man.”

Feeling a little emboldened, and more than a little wanting, by Gabriel’s grin, Jack moved a little closer. Though Gabriel stiffened, he didn’t recoil. If anything, he gave the white-haired soldier a cautiously inquisitive look, blinking at them with dimly glowing eyes.

“Pretty sure my sight’s just as good now as it was then,” Jack murmured, now quite close to Gabriel.

“How...sure?” Gabriel ventured, leaning in ever so slightly, as though he still wasn’t sure of what he wanted to do.

Realizing that he was going to have to make the first move, same as he had over twenty years ago, Jack smiled up helplessly at Gabriel. Despite being one of the most headstrong men Jack had ever known, Gabriel had always been the more reserved of the two when it came to very personal matters. So, not wanting to waste another second, Jack leaned in, closed what little distance there was, and kissed Gabriel gently.

The surprised noise that escaped from the back of Gabriel’s throat quickly dissolved into a contented groan. The embers of desire that had been smoldering faintly in his core suddenly sparked to life, and when Jack began to pull away, Gabriel didn’t let them. He clasped his hand on the side of Jack’s face, catching their lips with his scarred ones once again in a rougher, more imploring and insistent kiss.

Of course, Jack didn’t resist. He even pulled Gabriel along with him when they pushed him back against the couch cushioning. As the last bits of his reservation gave way to a long dormant desire, Gabriel’s kisses became more impassioned. He even let a few of them trail down along Jack’s jawline and neck, the thumb of his one hand beginning to stroke along the side of Jack’s face while the other gripped carefully at their side.

It was only when he heard Jack chuckle softly that Gabriel paused, the dark-haired man lifting his gaze and tilting his head inquisitively.

“Guess some things never change, huh?” Jack asked, smile unwavering.

“What do you mean?”

“I always had to make the first move, but after I did, you always did a pretty good job in taking over.”

“Oh, ah…” Gabriel seemed to realize just how much he now had Jack pinned up against the couch, and started to draw back. He would have done so completely, had Jack not reached up and grabbed the collar of Gabriel’s jacket.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Jack stated. He then pulled Gabriel back down for another, fiery kiss. “...and I know I didn’t say stop.”

Grinning knowingly, Gabriel promptly resumed his series of fiery kisses. He didn’t mind when Jack grabbed the back of his arm, even giving them a soft, encouraging growl. It was enough to get Jack to clutch at the back of Gabriel’s neck, pulling back only for a much needed breath.

“...Gabriel.”

“Heh, winded already?”

“Hardly.”

Not one to be outdone, Jack leaned up and kissed down Gabriel’s jawline and then neck, mindful of their injuries. Groaning softly, his grip on Jack’s side intensifying briefly, Gabriel dared to nuzzle his scarred face against Jack’s. The white-haired soldier snuck in a quick kiss and caress to the side of the dark-haired man’s face, wordlessly reassuring Gabriel.

“Jack…,” Gabriel moaned.

“Need me to stop?” Jack teased, already knowing what the answer would be. He knew, better than most, just how insatiable Gabriel could be.

“Don’t...don’t you dare,” came the chuckled, breathless reply.

As if to add credence to his response, Gabriel hooked his index finger under Jack’s chin, pulling them up for another soft, deep kiss. Then, without hesitation, he lay slowly lay back on the couch, carefully taking his once former, and now renewed, lover with him. Of course, Jack didn’t resist, laying atop Gabriel in a perfect fit. Just as they had so many nights before so long ago.

Now free to do so, Gabriel let his hand drift from Jack’s side to the small of their back, occasionally gripping at it when Jack’s lips managed to find a particularly sensitive spot along his neck. His other hand now ran along the back of Jack’s head and neck, his fingers combing through their hair slowly. Arching his back, and unable to help himself, Gabriel brought Jack back up for another kiss, his tongue briefly slipping out to flit across Jack’s lower lip. It was more than enough to earn equal reciprocation from Jack, sending soft trembles of excited warmth through Gabriel’s body.

As Jack’s affectionate attentions continued, Gabriel felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. What was more, he could feel Jack’s heartbeat through their chest and clothing and against his own. It was faint but steady, and fell in perfect rhythm with Gabriel’s.

Once again, it was from exhilaration and excitement, though of a much more desirable sort. No longer was either heartbeat sullied with adrenaline from pain or the thrill of the hunt. Now they were fueled purely by desire and anticipation of unspoken promises of what was bound to come later. And though the morning may have brought uncertainty, it was hardly a second thought.

Gabriel and Jack, now reunited, finally had a night they could once again share with the other.


End file.
